Drowning
by HPNewsie
Summary: " I see you immediately try and turn the conversation around whenever we start talking about something serious. But that's not gonna help you right now, okay? I need you to stay here and not run away from the things that hurt Les."


**Hi everyone! So I decided to post a little one shot instead of the next part of my multi-chapter- I just felt like writing something else. I honestly don't really know how this story happened. I had an idea for a certain aspect of Les's character, and then that kind of spun itself into a whole very emotional story. One thing I do want to say is that the structure is supposed to slightly mirror the content, so keep that in mind. This is kind of different from my usual style, but I actually am happy wih how it turned out. I really really really hope you like this story- please please leave me a review and tell me what you think!**

 **Also, if any of you reading this have any type of request for a Newsies one shot, please let me know! I'm totally open to prompts and requests, just thought I'd put that out there.**

 **Thank you so much, enjoy the story, and please review!**

Les Jacobs wasn't stupid. He wasn't blind and he wasn't ignorant and he sure as heck wasn't incapable of understanding the things that more grown up people talked about. The thing was, he had a way of controlling conversations if he didn't like the direction they were going. When Jack and Davey started talking about the unfair things the bulls were doing to the newsies in the Bronx, all Les had to do was run up to a storefront window and press his hands against the glass and raise his voice and say "Wow! Look at that cake Jack!" and Davey and Jack would exchange understanding and mildly frustrated glances and assume Les didn't understand the injustices of the world and turn their attention to dragging him away from the store window. If a new newsie showed up to the lodging house with a particularly gruesome backstory, all Les had to do was tell any of the newsies who were listening that some big older boy had taken his selling spot and he needed help finding a new one and everyone would murmur that they should probably save the conversation for later because the kid was too young and too dumb to come up with his own selling spot and besides he wouldn't understand the hardship the new kid had gone through so they'd better just find Les a new spot.

Les knew perfectly well that the Bulls were trying to provoke the Bronx newsies into stealing stuff from street vendors so they'd have a cause to haul them in, and he knew perfectly well that the new kids older brother had done some stuff to him that wasn't too pretty and that the kid had been thrown out and couldn't pay for lodging and had to borrow money from Jack. He knew these things just as well as everyone else. But Les hated confronting them. He didn't get why everyone felt the need to discuss it when bad things happened. And since Les was the youngest newsie and Davey's little brother, he could always count on his age to excuse him from participating in any conversation that might be sad.

And so Les was fine with being secretly wise, and always staying alert in case a conversation ever took a turn down a dark path. It took work, sure, but it was worth it.

"I don't know what to tell him," Davey said frantically, his voice raising unsteadily as he twisted his cap in his hands. "How am I even supposed to break news like this?"

Jack looked at him closely. "Hey Dave? How about you?" He said gently. "You gotta take care of yourself too, pal."

Davey shook his head, praying the tears in his eyes weren't visible. "Yeah, well, we can worry about me later. It's the price you pay for bein' the oldest."

Davey saw Race raise his eyebrows out of the corner of his eye. The newsies, short Les, were gathered in the lodging house after a selling day. Jack had herded them all together so they could be there for Davey, who was standing in front of them like a nervous politician who was giving a speech to his public.

"Where is the kid anyway?" Mush asked quietly. Davey ignored the question, so Jack jumped in. "Katherine's got him."

The room slowly sank into silence, as the weight of the situation trapped the summer air into stillness. Davey was leaning against one of the bunks, covering his face with his hands. He finally took a shaky breath and straightened up. This time he knew there were tears on his face, but he also knew that none of the newsies would care.

"I- I just don't know fellas. How do you go about telling a kid his pop's dead?"

There was a reason Les didn't like talking about serious things. He remembered the day that his favorite uncle had been arrested and nobody had told Les why, and Les he felt like nothing mattered anymore because his uncle was in jail. He remembered the overwhelming grief and that his parents had forced him out of the bedroom and made him sit there while they said stupid pointless things that meant nothing and paled in comparison to his dark and heavy sadness. They had stared at him, trying to figure out how he was reacting and carefully watched him to try and know everything about his pain. And Les had felt like he was drowning because his head was being yanked out of his pain and he needed desperately to dive in and swim around in his deep pool of grief and be immersed in it until it began to evaporate. And Les discovered that day that he needed to be alone with pain the same way that he needed to breathe and be needed to have Davey next to him when he fell asleep and he needed the newsies. He found out that talking about anything that involved sadness would make him feel like he was drowning again, like the way he felt the first time he took a bath in the freezing water at the lodging house and he couldn't breathe because it was too cold too quickly: because he was unable to process anything that fast and he needed to be able to fully deal with the things that hurt him and not have to worry about the things that had the potential to until they did. But of course, no one would understand that, and Les couldn't blame them, because he was confused himself. He just knew that for some reason, when things were bad he couldn't talk about them. He knew that he couldn't stand people peering into his face and watching him deal with sad things. He knew that he needed to hide in the bedroom or the alleyway or anywhere alone and be empty and go through it, and that was okay.

"Dave. It's okay, you'se allowed to be upset. Hell, you'se allowed to be more than upset." Jack was sitting next to Davey on one of the empty bunks, having already kicked most of the other newsies out of the room. Jack had seen Davey try desperately not to cry in front of them, to save face in front of the boys who never hesitated to remind him that no matter what, he could never have it as bad as they did. Although Jack had to hand it to them- as much as the newsies could be insensitive idiots, they had been nothing but supportive to Davey since he's gotten the news. Even still, Jack had wanted to try and save Davey the pain of crying in front of a crowd and had signaled the boys to leave. Race and Mush had stayed back- Jack knew they were especially close to Davey.

Davey was openly crying now. Jack was usually an expert at handling crying boys, but he somehow felt at a loss for words when called upon to be there for his best friend.

Race and Mush sat across from the other two, staring uncertainly at Davey. None of the boys had ever seen Davey like this and no one quite knew what to do.

"Well good, cause I am more than upset. What am I supposed to do now Jack? I have to be responsible for my whole family now and it doesn't even matter what I feel because I'll have to put it all aside for them." He shook his head and buried his face in his hands again.

"I mean yeah, my dad and I argued about everything, but I never thought I'd be this young when he died." Jack tentatively put his arm around Davey, exchanging a look with Race and Mush. Davey wiped the tears off his face and took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair.

"Goddammit Jack, just tell me what to do, cause I sure as hell don't know." Davey's voice shook in desperation and Jack couldn't take seeing his friend in this much pain. He looked to Race for help.

"Dave? Don't bite my head off for this, but it ain't all down to you, pal. Look, that's the whole point of bein' a newsie ain't it? We's all here to help ya out," Race said quietly.

"Thanks," Davey mumbled softly. "I appreciate that. I mean, I know you guys have all had more than your fair share of rotten luck, so I understand if this isn't a big deal-"

Race stood up suddenly and stares hard at Davey. "Hey Dave," he said. "Do me a favor, will ya, and don't you dare worry about that."

Les was enjoying his afternoon with Katherine. They'd gone to Central Park and climbed trees and played marbles on the grass, and Katherine had even turned a blind eye when Les stole a rich old man's loaf of bread, and had joined him in feeding to the ducks with it. Plus he'd sold almost all of his papers. Les had never really had an afternoon alone with Katherine, and so he'd never realized just how much fun she really could be.

So when he saw Jack and Davey approaching, Les couldn't wait to tell them about great he thought Katherine was, and he couldn't wait to see Jack smile when he heard that Les had officially welcomed Katherine into their lives.

Les greeted them with a huge smile on his face- and then he saw the look on Davey's face: the reluctant smile and the sad eyes, and Les knew something was wrong. He had to get away. If he was trapped into hearing whatever the news was, not only would Davey be there, but Jack and Katherine would be around to watch too, and that he couldn't do. He willed himself to come up with some excuse that would get himself out of the situation, but for the first time, came up with nothing.

Davey sat down on a nearby bench with Jack, and motioned Les to do the same. Les couldn't.

"Uh, actually Davey, I think I'm gonna try and sell my last pape to that lady over there so I'll see you later-"

"Les," Davey said. "I know what you're doing. But there's something you really need to know." Les turned around and was caught off guard at the sight of his brothers face. Was he _crying_?

"Davey?" Les whispered, suddenly terrified of hearing the news.

"Les, I don't know how to say this, it's gonna hurt no matter what. But dad... There was an accident, a bad accident, at his factory- he got hurt real bad, worse than before. And he's- he's dead, Les."

It was all happening the way Les never wanted it to. He saw Jack carefully watching his face, and Katherine wondering if Les could possibly wrap his mind around something like this, and Davey looking him straight in the eyes. He saw his life change forever and become something unreal and unbelievably dark and he saw himself always surrounded by someone monitoring his emotions. It was too much, and Les felt like he was drowning again.

He got up and everything looked as nightmarish as it felt. Everything was moving and Les wanted to throw up. And Jack and Davey and Katherine wouldn't stop watching him, wouldn't stop trying to get inside his head and see what he was feeling.

And Les started to run away and before he could make a full stride, Jack grabbed him and everything became even worse. Jack was going to make him talk about how he felt and Les was going to lose control and he couldn't do that. And so Les did something that he never ever would have imagined himself doing in a million years- he punched Jack Kelly in the face. Hard.

Les noticed a few things: first, it didn't make him feel any better, second, that Jack didn't say anything at all as he rubbed his jaw, third, that Katherine gasped but immediately turned towards Les instead of Jack and fourth, that Davey had grabbed Les's shoulders and was making Les look at him.

"Les. Listen to me," Les just saw more and more tears kept coming out of Davey's eyes and heard his brothers voice tremble and tries to focus on the ground.

"You listening? Okay, good. Les, how you feel is the only thing I care about right now. I know this is terrible, I know. I know you have a certain way of dealing with things, I know you don't like to talk about bad things, I know facing sad things freaks you out. I see you immediately try and turn the conversation around whenever we start talking about something serious. But that's not gonna help you right now, okay? I need you to stay here and not run away from the things that hurt Les."

"He's right kid," Jack said calmly. "I know you gotta problem with facing nasty things, and that's okay, we all got problems. But avoiding 'em ain't gonna fix 'em, and the only way you'se gonna feel any sort of okay is if you can just make yourself face this head on and let us help you. "

"I-" Les croaked. Everything was wrong, of course. His father was dead. He'd never be alive again. Les still felt like he needed to run away. But there was something about Davey holding his shoulders and Jack kneeling down next to him and the words they were saying that made him able to breathe and stay put and not feel like he was drowning.

"Okay," Les whispered. He repeated Jack's words in his head. _Let us help you, let us help you, let us help you._

And somehow, in some way, Les felt like he could _._


End file.
